Domestic Maneuvers
by Petra Todd
Summary: Sally and Sherlock had been arguing at another crime scene that evening; Molly knew it without either one of them having to say a word. Sally Donovan/Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper. Written for the Ladies of Sherlock challenge on Tumblr.


_This story was written for the LadiesOfSherlock challenge on Tumblr, for April. _

_Thanks to dietplainlite for the beta and encouragement!_

* * *

They'd been arguing at another crime scene that evening; Molly knew it without either one of them having to say a word. Whenever they'd had a professional disagreement, it was obvious to her from the moment they stormed into the flat, Sally's stubborn jaw set and Sherlock's eyes frosty cold. He retreated to the spare room they shared as a library and lab, shedding clothes along the way, and Sally threw herself onto the sofa where Molly lay waiting expectantly with arms open.

"I'm going to kill him," Sally said, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend's waist and settling her chin against her breasts. "But not tonight. Too late, and I'm too tired. The crime scene was a mess." She eyed the trail of clothing leading to Sherlock's hideout. "I'm not fucking picking that up either. And neither are you."

"Wasn't planning on it," Molly reassured her with a grin, leaning in to kiss her forehead. She brushed a stray curl off Sally's brow and studied her weary face. "I was just thinking about heading to bed before you got home. This was a long one, wasn't it. Was he really worse than usual, or was it the case? I think he said it was only a 4 when he left?"

Sherlock had looked positively bored with Lestrade's call when he left the flat earlier; she suspected he only took the case as an excuse to see Sally, frankly. He claimed her presence on scene was an annoying distraction but Molly knew he loved seeing her playing the sergeant, her hard edges honed and on display.

"A _4, _he says." Sally shook her head, and stroked Molly's side through the soft cotton of her comfortable dressing gown. "Goddamned numbers. He didn't have to talk to the victim's 80 year old mother. A _4_ doesn't cover a damn thing. And he was careless with the evidence again; we can't use it if he-"

"I know, I know. And he knows." Molly cupped her cheeks, and pulled Sally in close to bring their mouths together for a proper hello kiss. Sally hoisted herself up on her elbows to bring her face level with hers, and their lips came together again, feathering lightly and then harder, until Molly slid down onto her back on the sofa, dragging Sally on top of her. Her small hands dipped underneath the grey blouse Sally had worn to the crime scene, and pushed it up to thumb her nipples through her bra. Sally sighed against her lips, and slipped a thigh between her knees, brushing aside the gown and reaching down to feel the velvety skin high on Molly's inner thighs. She loved the way the other woman's legs would fall open when she pressed the heel of her palm into the muscles of her thighs, massaging her until she was wet and pleading for Sally to go higher. She traced the elastic edge of her girlfriend's knickers, and rolled her tongue against Molly's.

"Bedroom?"

"Thought you were tired?" Molly laughed and wiggled against her hand.

"Who, me? Never." Sitting up, Sally fumbled with the knot on the worn dressing gown tie, swearing at it when it wouldn't budge. "Oh fuck it." She yanked open the folds of the gown above the knotted tie, exposing Molly's dark pink nipples. Unbuttoning her own shirt and unhooking her bra, she tossed them aside and was reaching for her zipper when she heard his voice.

"Really, Sergeant Donovan, a little patience and observation goes a long way." Sherlock's long fingers reached past hers and made quick work of the knot, and Sally cursed again. She wondered when actually he had come out of his hidey hole finally. He was still clad only in black boxer briefs, and judging from the tenting of the material, he had been watching them. He untied the belt, and pushed the dressing gown off Molly's shoulders onto the sofa. His eyes gleamed, taking in her flushed body, clad only in dampening blue knickers.

Sally huffed, "I could've done it-"

Sherlock cut her off with a kiss. "Yes but it's so much faster when I untie her, and I really did want to get to the fun part." He covered Sally's hand on her zipper. "I could do this faster too."

"Maybe I don't want you to." Sally bit his lower lip as his mouth came down on hers again. His eyes flared and darkened.

"Sounds like he needs to make tonight up to you," Molly added from the sofa, where she lay lazily teasing her nipples.

"Taking her side already?" Sherlock glanced at her with eyebrows raised.

"I love you," Molly said, her dimples showing, "But I know you."

"You're impossible," Sally said. "Next time you nearly ruin evidence I'm going to have you removed from the scene, Lestrade's permission or not."

"Fair enough." Sherlock unzipped her trousers and slipped his hand into her knickers to feel how wet Molly had made her. The tight heat of her cunt soaked his fingertips at once, and he dove in to take her mouth again.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Sally dug her nails into his scalp at the back as Sherlock rubbed her clit. Tearing her mouth from his, she insisted breathlessly, "I'm not kidding."

"I know." Sherlock was serious, Molly realized. Sally's eyes skimmed over his face, and whatever she saw there satisfied her too, because she nodded and the tension in her shoulders melted away. She yanked Sherlock tighter to her, widening her thighs and accepting him.

Molly saw Sally's knees wobble with the intensity of Sherlock's brilliant fingers teasing her clit and dipping into her pussy; her mouth watered, thinking about how juicy wet Sally must be by now. She needed to see and taste.

Molly hopped off the sofa, leaving behind the robe, and drew Sally's knickers down over her hips, stripping her bare finally. Sally kicked away the clothes, and placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head in thought. She settled one foot on the sofa, exposing her pussy to his roaming hands even further, while her face remained calm and detached. Sherlock's eyes burned, the challenge rising.

Sally threw back her head and laughed. "You were so ridiculous tonight, I was this close to telling you to kiss my arse in front of half of Scotland Yard."

He rolled his eyes but smirked and dropped to his knees, his grip on her thighs never weakening. His gaze was focused entirely on the wet curls above her pussy. Molly knew how much he loved tickling his fingertips with those springy curls when he was licking Sally's clit; she did too.

His distraction was apparent to Sally as well, it seemed. She grasped a handful of his dark hair, and tipped his head up, forcing his eyes to hers.

"I said, I was going to tell you to kiss my arse tonight. Not my minge. So get to it." Sally beamed, and the tight grip she held on her boyfriend's hair relaxed. She spun around to face the sofa, adjusting her position so one leg was still raised on the cushions. Molly crawled onto the sofa in front of and beneath her, and Sally smiled down at her.

Glancing back at Sherlock, Sally grinned. "Well?"

He didn't need to be told twice.

Sherlock knelt behind Sally, caressing her calves and thighs, scraping his nails over her skin up and down until she shivered. Her hips were narrow but her round cheeks curved out to fill his palms perfectly, and when she bent over, she opened for him like she was meant for this. As Sally rocked her clit onto Molly's waiting lips and chin, Sherlock licked her arse, flicking his tongue over the rosebud until she shuddered and urged him on with whispers. He cradled her hips, but it was Sally who set the rhythm for three of them, moving forward and then back like a wave. Sally rolled and bounced against them, taking her pleasure and moaning until she felt the ripples building in her belly and racing up her spine.

"I can feel you coming." Sherlock's tongue swirled harder against her arse. "Not so ridic-"

"Please _shut up_," Sally demanded, rocking back, fucking herself on his tongue. She moaned, stroking Molly's hair as the other woman sucked on her clit enthusiastically. Sally looked back over her shoulder and saw Sherlock's head of curls shaking and his tongue bobbing against her arse, and the sight tipped her over the edge.

Sally writhed and buckled under the weight of her orgasm, but Sherlock caught her and lowered her to the sofa, deftly maneuvering her around Molly.

Gasping from the sudden loss of a hot pussy against her mouth, Molly looked bereft. Sally, who always recovered her wits fast after coming, drew her close for another kiss. After thoroughly tasting herself on Molly's lips, Sally turned to Sherlock who watched as he stood stroking his cock through his boxer briefs. With a crook of her finger, he bent low to hear her.

"First I'm going to kiss my girl again. Then you're going to fuck her while I keep doing that-" She glanced at Molly for confirmation, who agreed with a happy nod. "And then afterward you're going to pick up the clothes you threw all over the flat." Drawing his underwear down to his thighs, she took his thick cock in hand and rolled her tongue over the reddening glans. Sherlock shivered, and nodded.

"Agreed."

* * *

In the end, they finished in the bedroom, with Molly and Sally's lips locked together while Sherlock rode Molly from behind. She gasped and squeaked into Sally's mouth, begging sweetly for his cum before demanding it with such filthy language that Sally grew wet.

"I'm too tired to go again," she complained. "Stop being so gorgeous," she ordered Molly, kissing her. Sherlock's final thrusts drove Molly into coming, and when he followed a few seconds later, it was with the relieved sigh of a man who had finished a marathon. But he dropped onto the bed only to be nudged a minute later.

"The clothes," Sally said with a wave toward the sitting room.

Sherlock grumbled as he wrapped the sheet around himself and made a show of stomping around the flat picking up his belongings. Distantly the women heard the sounds of him brushing his teeth, and then throwing clothes far too noisily into drawers.

Molly giggled and shouted, "Enough, enough! Come back to bed, Sherlock. We miss you. It's cold. How many times a week do we go through this?"

Sherlock was back in a flash, his sheet tossed aside and his tall body wedged between theirs in bed. "It keeps things lively, wouldn't you say?"

"Couldn't we just have tea and shag and not fight?" Sally asked.

"We do that." He paused. "Are you unhappy?"

"Once in a while." She rolled to Sherlock and wrapped an arm around his waist. "But that's normal. I'm happier more than I'm not. We can talk about other stuff in the morning more. Like proper evidence handling. Now is not the time."

Molly reached across him, laying her arm over Sally's. "No, it's not. It's sleeping time. Goodnight, loves."

Sherlock kissed her until she purred in his arms. "Goodnight, Molly." He turned to Sally then, and even in the darkness, they saw one another clearly.

"Goodnight, love." They slung an arm across each other's waist and with Sally's head resting on his chest, at last, they were at peace.


End file.
